


The Bonfire

by gamegrumpsfanimated



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, It's short I'm sorry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, please be patient with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:29:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamegrumpsfanimated/pseuds/gamegrumpsfanimated
Summary: Why was she doing this? She recalls her conversation with McNamara before they'd left, a meaningless bit of banter about boys. The blonde had said she was dating someone, some stupid jock, and Heather's chest had immediately tightened with an angry feeling she couldn't place a name to. Why was she jealous? It didn't concern her, it wasn't her business— but that hot feeling sat high in her chest, in her throat, threatening to choke her. Maybe she was just trying to prove a point.This was going to be a long night.





	The Bonfire

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hi y'all. Sorry I've been gone for so long again! I've been watching Falsettos and Crying™. Here's a fic that I'll continue. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy.

High schoolers are reckless fucks, that much is universal knowledge. When their parents are away, a lot of things happen. They throw parties, get wasted, get laid, just create general chaos.

This time, this chaos takes the form of a bonfire, put together and hosted by about thirty kids with no better way to spend a Friday night.

Heather feels out of place, and it's such an alien, unfamiliar experience that she feels like she's stranded in waters she's never navigated. It's just like every other party; crowds of people yelling, laughing and having a good time, the strongest drinks they can get their hands on getting passed around like water while the music that she just barely recognizes gets blasted so loudly that she feels the hum in her bones. The only real difference is that they're in an open field, and their main source of lighting is coming from a gigantic fire in the middle of it all, crackling merrily.

She's usually so _comfortable_  in this kind of environment. But now? She's got a headache. Everything's just so fucking _loud_ and this boy she's talking to, some kid she'd drunkenly decided she was going to go home with tonight, is talking her ear off about some stupid shit that Heather couldn't care less about. He's annoying and whiny, but she suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and gently places a careful hand on his exposed bicep, fingers curling around his arm. Why was she doing this? She recalls her conversation with McNamara before they'd left, a meaningless bit of banter about boys. The blonde had said she was dating someone, some stupid jock, and Heather's chest had immediately tightened with an angry feeling she couldn't place a name to. Why was she jealous? It didn't concern her, it wasn't her business— but that hot feeling sat high in her chest, in her throat, threatening to choke her. Maybe she was just trying to prove a point. Whatever. It didn't fucking matter. Looking back to the boy beside her, Heather throws him a flirty smirk she doesn't feel, and remarks lowly, “You know, I'd prefer to do a lot less talking. Maybe we can go to your place?”

The kid looks up at her and grins, his face flushing as he nods too enthusiastically. “Yeah, definitely—”

Heather, trying not to scowl, knocks back a third of the bottle of Jack Daniels she's got gripped in her fingers, trying to focus on the burn in her throat and the tingling in her fingertips. She feels heat in her face from the whiskey, and she can already tell this is going to be a long night.

She carries the conversation with the boy, flirting heavily with him. Her eyes drift away from him, back towards the bonfire and the activity going on behind it. From the crowd, Heather spots a familiar head of blonde hair tied in a yellow scrunchie. McNamara must feel eyes on her, because she immediately turns around, green eyes looking for who was staring at her. The strawberry blonde turns her head, acting like she was suddenly interested in what the boy (his name might've been John) was saying. She feels the exact moment her friend catches sight of her, and her gaze burns hot on the back of her neck until Heather turns around again. By then, McNamara's looked away, shoulders hunched, as she walks back off into the crowd briskly.

A hand on her thigh snaps Heather's attention back, and she puts on her sexy-lusty mask again. For some reason, she feels like battered shit, and not because of the alcohol. Talking to this boy, touching him like she actually cares about what he has to say, it makes her feel _dirty._  It's definitely not the first time, though. Sleeping with guys felt more like a loathed routine rather than an activity she actually enjoyed. This boy wasn't about to be an exception.

Heather nods along to his words, lifting the bottle of whiskey to her lips again and taking a long, burning sip, unsure if the churning feeling in her stomach was the alcohol or... Something else.

This was going to be a _long_ night.

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is appreciated. yell at me on twitter (@lcsver)


End file.
